Disclaimer: Nothing. And I'm sure that M'sieur Leroux is laughing at me now. . .as is ALW. T.T

A/Ns: Reviews! Reviews! Reviews! ^___^ Thank you -all- for the beautiful reviews. No, the girl is -not- Christine, but perhaps someone else.? *le hinthint* Don't worry, if there is any romance -at all- it'll be E/C. Not saying that there will be, but perhaps. Our 'new edition' to the story is like this -all the time-, other than when she's performing. So, if anyone out there really doesn't like someone to be on sugar highs 24/7, you can shoo. Anyone who likes reading about people with too much blood sugar, stay. I'll stop jabbering now and tell you the story. Read/Review, sil vous plait!

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:Chapter 2-Realization:

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As soon as he looked the girl in the eyes, he knew exactly who she was.

". . .Christine?" he asked, starting at the girl in front of him.

The girl could hardly speak. Tears welled in her eyes as she listened to the man's voice. No, she was not Christine, but she knew who he was and whom he was talking about. She shook her head, choking out a single word.

"Erik?"

Erik nodded, yet if she was not Christine, how did she know his name? Before he knew what was happening, the girl had enveloped him in the largest hug imaginable, almost knocking him over.

"Oh my God," she whispered, standing back up. "It's really Erik!" she wheezed, grasping onto the pole as they began to move again. Then she paused.

"But you're supposed to be dead. . .how'd you get here?" the girl asked quizzically, quirking an eyebrow.

"I do not know, Mademoiselle," he replied, taking out the ticket once again. "But, might you be able to tell me what day, year, and month it is? And where I am?" he asked politely.

"Oh, sure," she said with a grin. "It's 2003, Friday, August eighth, around noon. And you're in New York City. What is that?" she inquired, taking the ticket from his hand. Looking at it for a split second, she blinked in disbelief and looked back up at him. "How in the world did you get this? Oh nevermind, it doesn't matter, I still can't believe. . .Oh, I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Diana Thomson. I mean Kali Thomson," she said quickly, extending her free hand.

Erik gave her a slightly odd look, but it wasn't as if he didn't use more than one name during his lifetime. "Pleasure, mademoiselle," he replied, taking her hand and lightly shaking it. Apparently either this girl was very excited of being near him, (the mere thought of that was enough to laugh at,) or she enjoyed speaking quite fast. "Mademoiselle -" he began again, remembering the ticket in his hand, obviously for that night's performance.

"Kali," she said quickly. And, as if reading his mind, she added, "That ticket. . .I know exactly where that is, care for me to take you there? I was actually on my way there myself. . .Just going to check to see if I'll need to do anything tonight." With that said, she unzipped her backpack, placing the newspaper and the headphones inside of it.

Erik nodded slowly, beginning, for some odd reason that even he could not explain, to become slightly comfortable around this young woman. Obviously, she was around twenty-five years of age, but her manner seemed to say that either she was in her late teen years, or that her level of blood sugar had increased tremendously within the past half an hour. And she seemed so familiar. . .perhaps that was where this feeling of comfort came from?

Her voice, of course, resembled nothing of Christine's, it being quite an average pitch for any young person, and not very musical. Yet her face was perfectly recognizable, from her soft eyes to her silky hair - although, Kali's hair was quite straight, and parts of it were apparently colored. But he hadn't heard her sing. . . yet he quite doubted she could reach the beauty of his angel's voice.

"If I may inquire, do you normally go by the name of Kali or the name of Diana?" he asked her, wondering where this other name came from.

"Well, that depends who I'm talking to. My birth name? Kali Thomson. However, my stage name is Diana Thomson. It's quite helpful to have a more common name like Diana, because most people probably wouldn't know how to spell or pronounce Kali. . ." Kali began to reply before the train came to a halt once again. "Oh, how time flies. We're here. Follow me, sil vous plait.," she said, walking off of the train and into a very brightly lit area.

Beginning to walk through the massive crowds of people, Erik was able to catch bits of words on several diagrams, mainly beginning with the word 'Track' and then two numbers. Keeping an almost constant watch on Kali, as if not to lose her, Erik despised being around so many people. But then something else caught his attention. No one was staring at him. How queer, he said to himself, perhaps there are more things to this. . .era than I thought.

Finally, after walking through the tremendous crowds, down many steps and passing many posters, (approximately three of them bearing a mask, a rose, and the words 'The Phantom of the Opera',) Kali finally stopped on a platform. "Well, we'll just have to wait about two minutes for the shuttle to Times Square, then we'll make our way to 44th Street - and the Majestic Theatre." She said the final words as if they were holy; precious words that couldn't be said in any tone louder than a whisper.

Erik looked at her, still mainly stunned at the past events. "Mademoiselle - Kali -," he began as she turned to face him. "Where exactly are we now?" he questioned, glancing around, trying to think of anything he could to fade from the crowds.

"We're in Grand Central, awaiting the shuttle to Times Square. It's a place with a -ton- of bright lights, ads, and the Broadway theatre district. Times Square, I mean, not the shuttle," Kali said with a quick laugh. The shuttle arrived, and the two stepped inside along with many others, luckily getting standing room near the door. "I'm deathly sorry if I'm making you feel rushed," she said quickly, pulling out some object, flipping the cover, closing it again, and slipping it into her pocket. "But I must be at the theatre in seven minutes. . .When we get there, I promise I'll get you some coffee. Or, rather, tea, once I find out if I am to be part of the ensemble or a different role.and break my record of 12:15. . ." her voice trailed, and her eyes scanned the car.

After about two minutes of the ride, the 'shuttle' stopped and Kali led Erik quickly out of the station, and into a very large area full of bright lights. "Damn," he was able to hear Kali mutter as she quickly grabbed his hand and began running across the street. It was quite a funny picture, really, to any person not knowing who they were; a small, young woman dressed in clothing that would definitely not be defined as 'normal', pulling a very tall man in black opera attire, as well as a white mask, across the streets of Times Square.

Passing different theatres and billboards, Erik noticed something that made him, too, curse under his breath. A black billboard with the words 'Remember your first time.' in bright white, along with a mask and a rose, was displayed amidst other billboards for things such as 'Bank cards', 'Swatch watches', and something resembling the object Kali had earlier called a 'Nokia Cell Phone'. Honestly, this publicity for the story of his life was beginning to become quite irritating. . .

"Two minutes!" Kali said, practically throwing Erik into a very long alleyway filled with garbage disposal bins. On the far wall he could see a sign saying that this served as the stage door for three theatres, one being The Majestic. Flinging herself into one of the doors, Kali gasped and straightened up, glancing over her shoulder to ensure that Erik was still behind her. "Have fun?" She asked, a hint of teasing in her voice. "We're here now. . .Let me check to see if anyone's called in. And with that she walked down a hallway, leaving Erik with nothing to do but follow her. Mon Dieu, this shall be a very long journey indeed. . .